


another glass of whiskey

by JenelleLucia



Category: Ginga Eiyuu Densetsu | Legend of the Galactic Heroes
Genre: Gen, OH JESUS IM LATE, enjoy some ANGST WITH REUENTHAL, hi happy new years :)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-02
Updated: 2021-01-02
Packaged: 2021-03-10 23:34:27
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,046
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28495422
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/JenelleLucia/pseuds/JenelleLucia
Summary: ...and another, and another. // reuenthal and mittermeyer, with some angst up until the very last moment. galactic santas entry for @stickpenalties!
Relationships: Wolfgang Mittermeyer & Oskar von Reuenthal
Comments: 1
Kudos: 5





	another glass of whiskey

**Author's Note:**

  * For [stickpenalties](https://archiveofourown.org/users/stickpenalties/gifts).



When Reuenthal walks into the bar and spots Mittermeyer occupying a stool at the counter, he holds up his pointer finger and walks over. The bartender, right away, starts pouring a glass of whiskey as Mittermeyer swivels around in his stool to greet him. Reuenthal raises his glass when the bartender hands him his glass of whiskey, and he turns back around in his stool. Mittermeyer’s gaze remains on him; Reuenthal, for the time being, favors a sip. 

“What did he say?” is the first thing he asks. Reuenthal sets the glass down on the coaster. “Have you updated him on what we did when we returned to Odin?” 

“I did.” Reuenthal grips the glass with both hands. He does his best to ignore the bustling of the bar this late at night, and acknowledges Mittermeyer moving in closer. “What I’m about to tell you is no secret.” 

“Who knows if anyone’s listening.” 

A slight smile ghosts onto Reuenthal’s face as he lifts the glass to take a sip. “I’ll continue, then.” 

“Please do.” 

Reuenthal sets his glass back down on the coaster, watching as the ice clinks and fogs up the exterior of the glass. His gaze turns to the several brands of drinks before calling the bartender over. She comes over, and when Reuenthal gestures for her to fill Mittermeyer’s glass she glances over at him. 

“Please,” and without another word, she fills his glass with more whiskey. Reuenthal slides a five in exchange, and they watch her head off. Mittermeyer takes another sip, gaze focused on Reuenthal as he sits up straighter and continues. 

“He said that we can’t sentence the Imperial Prime Minister to death. Instead, suicide.” 

Mittermeyer nods slowly. “Reasonable enough.” 

“The women and children are to be sent to the frontier…” 

That’s also reasonable, but Mittermeyer suspects that there’s some sort of catch. 

“All males over the age of ten must be put to death.” Reuenthal sees the way that Mittermeyer blinks in surprise, and how he slowly lifts his glass for something much longer than a sip before setting the glass down on his coaster once more. Before Reuenthal can call the bartender over, she returns with the bottle of whiskey. Mittermeyer nods, another five is paid, and all he can do is listen. 

“He must have… some sort of reasoning for that, is my guess?”

“He says that he and Kircheis entered the academy at that age. Males under the age of ten can’t be considered responsible.” 

“I… suppose not…” 

Reuenthal smiles against the rim of his glass after lifting it to take a sip. “If you have a problem with it, you’re going to take it up with him. He’s returning to Odin soon.” At that, Mittermeyer only remains silent. Reuenthal is the same, but the smile fades away after setting down the glass. 

“He told me that when they’re adults, they can attack him. He says it’s fine.” 

That’s most definitely not among the strangest things that Mittermeyer heard in the past couple nights, but in a time where he had never known Reinhard von Lohengramm at all, maybe it would have. Instead, he shifts in his stool and nods. 

“What?” 

“What else did he tell you, of that regard?” 

“He said the same went for all of us. ‘When we’re prepared to overthrow him ourselves,’ he said, ‘come challenge me. I don’t care.’” 

_That_ was certainly the strangest thing that Mittermeyer had heard from Reinhard von Lohengramm. He looks at Reuenthal with wide eyes. 

“He jests,” is all he says. Reuenthal chuckles. 

“I told him the same thing.” He takes a sip. 

“He can’t possibly expect that of any one of us.”

“He said that it’s to be expected that incompetent rulers be overthrown.” 

Mittermeyer can’t say that he’s wrong. “What makes him think he’s going to get there?” 

Reuenthal shrugs, and takes another sip of his whiskey, except it’s not even a sip and that it’s long and drawn out. He gestures for the bartender to come over; she obliges, and she pours him another glass of whiskey. 

(This time, he pays her ten.) 

. 

“Admiral Mittermeyer --” 

“I’d like to be alone, for just a moment. Please.” 

Heinrich Lambert thinks that he sounds war-worn and weary, and when he glances over Admiral Reuenthal, sitting there and not moving an inch he bows his head and exits with the child in his arms. The rest of the party that had followed Mittermeyer in also exit the room, and all he’s left with is a dark room, Reuenthal, and a couple glasses of whiskey. They’ve stilled; when he nears the desk, he can see that they’re Reuenthal’s favorite brand. 

“I remember, when you asked the bartender that night which brand of whiskey it was. It was just when we left. I swear, you’d just about emptied your wallet for her,” Mittermeyer speaks to no one, slowly nearing the desk. 

_The bottle is a reminder of the wonderful service she had given us, and how I can never forget the sweet gaze of a woman with alcohol in her hands_ , would have been his response. He knows his friend far too well, and Mittermeyer smiles grimly. It’s cold, not that mentioning it aloud would have changed anything, and when he glances back at Reuenthal he sits in his chair unmoving, the flag of the Goldenlowe dynasty draped over his shoulders. It’s not like Mittermeyer to overanalyze the placement of _anything_ other than ships ready to deploy against the Iserlohn Republic, both whiskey glasses are next to each other. 

(Seems like he was waiting to have a drink.) 

The city lights of Heinessen below provide some sort of light as he walks over, cape billowing behind him. He takes one of the glasses, and despite the alcohol being stilled he takes a sip of it; the sip is long and drawn out and suddenly he finds that he's done with the one glass. He leaves Reuenthal’s glass alone, pours himself another glass of whiskey, and remains there with his friend until the warning shots from another room cause him to glance back once, set the glass down, and rush out without so much as a glance behind. 

_It's alright, though, because he looks back on the ship ride home._

**Author's Note:**

> HI HOLY SHIT HAPPY NEW YEAR'S, MERRY CHRISTMAS, AND HAPPY HOLIDAYS !! i'm a bit late because HOO BOY the holidays are a doozy and i've been extremely busy with finals, but i've been so happy to take part once again in galactic santas this year !! anyways, this is a bit rushed and oh my god i'm so sorry this is so short but @stickpenalties, i was your secret santa !! i hope this is all to your liking, happy holidays !! 
> 
> follow me on twitter so we can scream abt logh: @jenellexlucia


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